When I first read an article by Jeremy Clarkson where he complained about how women carry far too many things in their handbags, I chuckled, feeling strangely superior to all those lost women out there. I carry a big backpack – it makes me look 21 instead of almost 22 – but the bag was always nearly empty at the time.
Then I moved to the other end of the city and my bag became heavy. A big backpack became practical instead of being an accessory. If that’s not a sign of ageing, I don’t know what is. I started carrying things that I never had at all earlier – hand sanitizer, wet tissues, books to read on the metro, extra pens, notes, band aid, cough lozenges and God alone knows what else. I’m even a bit afraid of emptying out my bag these days because I don’t know what will turn up. And it’s not that the change occurred overnight. They are adaptations to problems – I had to face the prospect of eating with dirty hands, inexplicable injuries when I’m 30 minutes away from anything that’s even mildly familiar, a cold, boredom, guilt for not studying, and so on. After a month of shuttling between New Delhi and not-so-new Delhi in order to “pursue Economics at the Master's level”, I felt it’s about time Economics gave me something in return. I decided to apply what I had learnt to optimise the contents of my bag. I wanted to regain the respect that I once imagined Mr. Clarkson would have for me.
The first thing I discovered was that it helps to carry “big stuff”. This might seem counterintuitive, but the idea is to keep your bag clean and everything easy to find. If everything in your bag is large and heavy, you’re unlikely to carry anything you don’t need. It’s because the weight or space taken up by something is negligible that you throw it in and never take it out. For instance you would always remember to remove a big, heavy book once you finish reading it rather than a newspaper, 2-page notes, comics and suchlike. It also prevents you from buying crap that you’ll never take out. If you carry a small bottle you’ll invariably have many half-empty bottles of water you bought somewhere left in your bag.
The second rule is a monthly stock-taking. Ideally it should be weekly but it might not give you the same satisfaction because there won’t be as much rubbish and Mr. Clarkson will think you’re fastidious. Throw out everything you didn’t use that month. If everything you carry is pretty large, you might end up cleaning your room this way.
The third rule is not to carry substitutes. For instance you don’t need an iPod if it’s possible to load songs on to your phone, which will always be the case because it’s unlikely that you’re willing to spend on an iPod but not on a halfway decent phone. The iPod does give you an image advantage but that will be negated by the amount of crap you sift through in your bag to find it.
The fourth rule is never to buy anything unless you’re thoroughly psyched about it. That’s the only way you will remember to take it out of your bag when you get home. It will also prevent you from throwing in receipts that could line the bottom of your bag for many years.
The last rule is not to plan for contingencies. A lot of the material that I write is generated when I wind up in unfortunate circumstances. If I make it a point to carry everything I could possibly need when I fall, tear my lenses, get drenched in the rain, spill food on my clothes, find myself in a medical emergency or face the dilemma of ingesting food that could potentially cause jaundice, I wouldn’t have anything to write about.